


take all my money, take all my time

by justkeeponwriting



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, College Student Sam, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Human Gabriel, M/M, POV Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkeeponwriting/pseuds/justkeeponwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sam wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to Gabriel’s invitation, especially when it hadn’t even been much of an invitation. In fact, it had been more like a hostile takeover of his apartment that had escalated into Gabriel moaning and whining until he got his way and dragged Sam to a newly opened nightclub, because as Gabriel kept yapping, 'it’s only four blocks away and we can leave anytime and you really need to get out of your apartment before you collapse under the weight of your boring-ass law books, nerd.'"</p>
<p>Or, college student Sam befriends his weird neighbor Gabriel, and is mostly confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take all my money, take all my time

**Author's Note:**

> I got a prompt on tumblr for a short, funny ficlet, and it... got out of hand. I wasn't supposed to write 7k words of Sabriel, but that's what happened, whoops. This is not beta-read, I'm sorry to say, so feel free to point out any mistakes. Thank you!

The music was way too loud, even for a nightclub, and the endless boom-boom- _boom_ of the bass line was, besides starting to grate on Sam’s nerves, also doing its best to give him a headache. Sam wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to Gabriel’s invitation, especially when it hadn’t even been much of an invitation. In fact, it had been more like a hostile takeover of his apartment that had escalated into Gabriel moaning and whining until he got his way and dragged Sam to a newly opened nightclub, because as Gabriel kept yapping, “it’s only four blocks away and we can leave anytime and you really need to get out of your apartment before you collapse under the weight of your boring-ass law books, nerd.” To Gabriel’s credit, he had been right on two accounts: one, the club really was just a few blocks away from the apartment complex where Sam and Gabriel both lived, and two, Sam had really needed a break from all the studying. He just wasn’t sure that this had been the right way to go about it.

Sam was only 24, but he felt like he was getting too old for this shit. Nightclubs had never been his thing – they were more of Dean’s territory, and even then, sparingly. Sam would’ve much rather be curled up on his sinfully plush couch at home, watching a good movie and attempting to forget the stressful week he’d had at the university. Studying law had turned out to be more work than he’d ever put into anything, and Sam prided himself on being a dutiful student. Gabriel, however, was having none of Sam’s stress, and as usual, because Gabriel was more like a force of nature than something you could argue with, Gabriel had gotten his way. How their weird, maybe-friendship had started reflected that, too: Gabriel Novak was Sam’s next-door neighbor, and until three weeks ago, Sam had never exchanged a word with him.

To save money, Sam shared an apartment with his brother Dean, and although it was financially rational, in every other aspect… it wasn’t. He and Dean didn’t get along very well in shared quarters: Dean yelled at Sam for leaving dirty dishes in everywhere else but the sink, and Sam yelled at Dean for moving his notebooks and pens. It usually escalated to them fighting about everything else, too: interrupted study sessions, music being played too loud, passive-aggressive shopping lists, whose turn it was to buy toilet paper, and that time in middle school when Dean had scared Jessica Moore off before Sam had had the chance to ask her out. Dean was a great brother and person otherwise, and they got along in other situations just fine, but when they shared a space for a longer while… it wasn’t pretty.

The night Sam had met Gabriel had started with a fight between him and Dean. As usual, it had started out as something insignificant, like Dean nagging to him about leaving dirty dishes in the living room, and Sam snapping that Dean left his dirty clothes everywhere, all the time, but after that, it had become just a fight about everything and nothing. Frustrated, Sam had stepped out of the apartment, slammed the door shut, and then, because he didn’t know where he could go and fume in peace, he simply sat down and leant his back to the wall. Sam was still calming his breathing and silently fuming when the door next to their apartment opened and a man stepped out.

The first thing Gabriel Novak ever said to him was, “Where’s the apocalypse, kiddo?”

Sam had looked up, and had stared at Gabriel, surprised. Gabriel had looked back, completely at ease. He’d shut the door to his apartment, and had come to lean against the wall and eat a bright pink lollipop next to Sam. Sam had looked at the way Gabriel licked the pink lollipop, absently thinking that it must’ve been cherry flavored, and then had asked, frowning:

“Do I know you?”

“No,” Gabriel replied, smiling brightly like Sam had just said the funniest thing ever. “Gabriel Novak. I live in B34. Now you do.”

“Sam Winchester, from B33,” Sam said, still slightly confused. It later turned out that that was the main feeling he got whenever he talked with Gabriel, anyway.

“Ah, so you’re the neighbor who keeps blasting AC/DC at midnight.”

“That’s my brother, Dean.” Sam sighed, and momentarily let his forehead rest against his knees. “I’ll talk to him about that. Sorry.”

Gabriel waved his hand. “It’s a good band. No worries.” He sucked on the lollipop, and the sound of it made Sam lift his head and look at Gabriel. Gabriel smiled.

“So, where’s the apocalypse?”

“I… Calling it an apocalypse is a bit much.”

“Rough night, then. Are you okay?”

“Just… tired.” Sam sighed. He nodded at his door. “Brothers, you know? Love ‘em, can’t live with them.”

“Ah.” Gabriel had nodded thoughtfully. “I do, indeed. If I lived together with my kid brother, I’d be forced to commit fratricide. Or the other way around. Whoever grabbed a heavy book first, probably.”

Sam snorted. “Accurate description of my life. Except I can’t find my heavy books, because _someone_ cleaned and rearranged the whole apartment while I was away.”

Gabriel’s eyes flashed at that, and Sam did a double-take, because it was kind of hard to see in the yellowish light of the corridor, but it did look like Gabriel’s eyes were golden. He kept looking at Gabriel as long as he dared, curious, but he couldn’t make out the color.

“So, why don’t you move out?” Gabriel asked.

Sam laughed. “Take a guess.”

“Broke? Jobless? Student? All?”

“All,” Sam confirmed. “And it’s not that bad… all the time. I mean, Dean has been amazingly supportive, and with his salary and all… I just…”

“What does your brother do?”

“He’s a nurse.” Though it hadn’t been that easy, not really: after Dean had chosen his field of study, the relationship between him and dad had been more strained than ever, but luckily (and with a little bit of encouragement from Bobby and Ellen, their honorary uncle and aunt), Dean had kept his head and graduated. Sam couldn’t have been prouder of him; Dean had always had a complicated relationship with dad, whereas Sam just straight-up knew that he’d never get dad’s approval, and went into pre-law and law school without asking him a single thing. Besides, dad had finally sucked it up and stopped making remarks about Dean’s profession when Dean had saved him from choking on a loaf of bread last Christmas. That was an amazing memory, and Sam smiled at it.

Gabriel nodded, and somehow seemed to know the story behind that one sentence, even though Sam hadn’t said anything. “Good for him. How about you?”

“I’m a law student.”

“Oh, cool. Now I don’t need to abuse my brother’s generosity, I can just knock on your door and ask whether or not it’s illegal to put an alligator in someone’s toilet.”

“I’m still a student,” Sam said, grinning a bit. He didn’t know if Gabriel was joking about the last bit, and didn’t dare to ask. “Your brother’s a lawyer? Should I warn him about the threat of fratricide so he can sue you in advance?”

“Nah, I’ve told that to him to his face. Besides, different brother.” Gabriel slurped on the lollipop, and clarified, “I’ve got three brothers and three sisters.”

“Wow,” Sam said.

“Yeah, it’s awful.”

“I’m… not sure are you joking or not.”

“Absolutely not,” Gabriel said with a grin. “Have you ever lived in a household with seven hormonal teenagers? Not fun.”

“Can’t say I have. Although I may be traumatized forever for the time when Dean and I shared a room and he discovered that porn can be found online.”

Gabriel laughed, long and hard. Sam felt oddly delighted at hearing the sound.

“So, which brother were you talking about earlier? The one you’d be forced to kill, if you lived together?” Sam asked, when Gabriel’s laughter had subsided.

“That’s Castiel. He’s the youngest. And practically impossible to live with.”

“Should I ask why?”

“He’s an artist. A painter. Ugh, you wouldn’t believe the stench of paint that follows him everywhere. Also, his biological clock is wired completely wrong, and to him, ‘midnight’ merely means ‘time to get up and work.’”

Sam laughed. “Sounds like Dean. He usually does the night shifts. Says they fit his sleep schedule better.”

Gabriel shook his head. “The only reason to be up at that time of the night is to party. And Castiel never takes advantage of that, poor bastard. Does everything backwards.”

Sam smiled, not knowing what to say to that. He’d never been big on parties; he naturally attended some that his friends from college arranged, but he always felt better at smaller gatherings, and preferably without alcohol as the social lube. Conversation flowed better when you weren’t drunk out of your mind.

To hide his confusion, Sam said, “Sounds perfectly reasonable grounds for fratricide.”

Gabriel grinned. “I love him, but Christ, I couldn’t live with him. Then again, Cassie knows that. He lives alone like a hermit for half a year, then he comes out of hiding and travels around the globe and sends our mother dirty cards just to spite her.” Sam snorted, and Gabriel continued, “Oh, yeah. Mother hates him. Never stuck to the mold, that one. But then again, she hates everything and everyone who doesn’t live like she wants to.”

“I take it you don’t, either?” Sam asked.

“I most certainly don’t,” Gabriel said, giving the lollipop a sinful lick. Sam wasn’t sure where to look. Their eyes locked over the lollipop, and Sam didn’t know what to make of it.

Just then, Dean opened the door, and gave a confused glance at Gabriel before spotting Sam, still sitting on the ground.

“Sammy,” Dean started to say, but Sam waved his hand.

“I’ll be there in just a second,” he said. Dean seemed to understand that as the peace offering that it was, and retreated back into the apartment. Sam got up, brushing the dust from his jeans, and turned to see Gabriel still looking at him.

Gabriel nodded at him, thoughtfully. “Fun talking to you, Winchester. See you around.”

Before Sam could answer that, Gabriel had disappeared into his own apartment. It had taken Sam a moment to realize that although their talk had been friendly and they’d talked about their families, Sam had learned very little about Gabriel himself. That was odd, but instead of being wary, Sam was intrigued.

Gabriel had seemed to take their first encounter as a go-ahead, and not four days after, he had knocked on the Winchesters’ door and strolled in when Sam opened the door, commandeered the couch and didn’t leave until they’d watched two movies and had eaten more popcorn than necessary. When Dean returned from his evening shift, he’d looked at them sitting on the couch, and had simply raised eyebrows at Sam’s “what can you do” gesture. After that, Gabriel Novak appeared to be everywhere in Sam’s life: in the corridor when Sam returned from the university, by the mailboxes, and most notably, in the coffee shop Sam frequented.

“Are you stalking me?” Sam asked the first time he spotted Gabriel in the corner booth nearest to the counter of _Heavenly Beans_. It was a Monday morning, and Sam was already on edge – Dean had had a long shift last night at the hospital, and had arrived home late, so Sam had had to creep around in order to not disturb Dean’s sleep, which was challenging even when he wasn’t running on four hours of sleep. Seeing Gabriel the first thing in the morning, before even getting his coffee to go, made Sam (unnecessarily) suspicious.

“I should be the one asking you that, seeing as I was here first, kiddo,” Gabriel said. His eyes twinkled with laughter, and immediately, he pushed away the papers that were spread out before him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Grab a coffee and join me!”

“Thanks, but I have to go,” Sam said, a bit regretfully. “I can’t miss this lecture.”

Gabriel shook his head. “What an overachiever. I barely showed my face at college, and look at me, still managed to graduate.”

Sam smiled. “How many of the teachers did you have to bribe in order to do that?”

“Hey!” Gabriel looked affronted. “I’ll have you know that I never bribed any of my teachers. Other deals, well, that’s a whole another question.”

Sam wasn’t sure was he glad that his name was called then and he had to leave to retrieve his coffee, because part of him wanted to hear the story behind Gabriel’s claim, and part of him decidedly did _not_.

Gabriel was there the next morning, too, and this time, Sam was only half surprised.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Sam commented while he waited for his coffee. Gabriel grinned.

“Can’t get enough of me, can you, Winchester?”

Sam didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. Gabriel grin only widened at that, and like yesterday, he pushed the papers before him away, as if cleaning space for Sam to sit in the booth. Sam didn’t sit down.

“Are you fond of sweets?”

“Sometimes,” Sam answered, wondering where this was going. “Not like you, I suspect,” he added, looking pointedly at the open bag next to Gabriel – several bags of M&Ms, lollipops and chocolate bars almost spilled out of it.

“Great! Leaves more for me. I’d hate to fight you,” Gabriel said. He looked over his shoulder, to the counter. “You should try the pie sometime. Freshly baked, and made right here.”

“Really?” Sam raised his eyebrows. “That’s rare.”

Gabriel just kept grinning at him, and Sam couldn’t understand that, and then he had no time to, because his coffee arrived and he had to leave.

The third time Sam ran into Gabriel in the coffee shop, he’d actually predicted it and had scheduled enough time to sit down in Gabriel’s booth. He waited until Gabriel had cleared the papers away – once again not getting a look at what they actually were about – and then sat down, opposite of Gabriel.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Gabriel teased. “Did I finally tame the beast? The overachiever has time to sit down for a coffee?”

Sam rolled his eyes, and sipped from his cup. “Do you live here or something?”

“Or something,” Gabriel said. “And I could ask you the same.”

“This is on my way to university,” Sam said. He didn’t understand why he had to argue about this. “What were you working on?”

“Oh, nothing important,” Gabriel said. He leaned closer. “So tell me, why go into law? To make money?”

“Wow, cynical, much?” Sam said. “Believe it or not, I actually want to help people.”

“And the money doesn’t hurt.”

“And the money doesn’t hurt,” Sam agreed, with a small smile.

“Ah, the truth comes out,” Gabriel teased. Sam sipped again from his cup and took that moment to arrange his thoughts. Gabriel waited, looking at him with interest.

“No, really, I’d like to help people. Growing up, we didn’t always have the best living arrangements or situation, because of dad’s poor judgment regarding… some of his friends and… things… especially after…” Sam swallowed. He didn’t feel comfortable enough sharing the whole story, so he skipped it. “Anyway, it would’ve been nice if there’d been someone to give us legal advice, so I simply decided that once I’m old enough, I’ll be that person.” Sam shrugged. “Nothing more to it.”

Gabriel was looking at him, with a strange glint in his eyes. He smiled softly, which was a clear contrast to the obnoxiously wide grin usually covering his face.

“You’re really something else, Winchester,” Gabriel said.

“Uh,” Sam said, because he couldn’t come up with anything else. Gabriel kept looking at him, with that small smile on his lips, and to say something, Sam simply said, “Thanks?”

Gabriel laughed at him, and Sam felt weirdly embarrassed. That seemed to be a common theme with them.

It took Sam two weeks to realize that Gabriel was always at the coffee shop because he _owned_ it.

“You could’ve told me,” Sam griped over his coffee one morning. Gabriel had just laughed at him and thrown a free muffin to go.

“Where’d the fun be in that, kiddo?” Gabriel asked, golden eyes glinting in the morning sun.

“So,” Sam said after a while, when he felt like he’d stared a little bit too much into Gabriel’s eyes, “let me guess, you actually didn’t have to make deals with your professors at college.”

“Now where on earth would you get _that_ idea?” Gabriel asked, and Sam rolled his eyes. “Google me if you’d like. This is the face of a saint.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“Well,” Gabriel said, “if you want to know the boring truth, I studied business, solely for the sake of opening my own shop one day. And I actually did attend classes, made my homework and listened to the teachers. But I also crashed a few parties in my time, made out with a teacher – not telling you which one – and miracle taped one asshole’s car shut. Among other things.”

Sam laughed. “Wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.”

“Oh, no worries, Winchester.” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows. “For you, I’m only going to show my _best_ sides.”

Sam had stuttered in his reply and hastily changed the subject, while Gabriel just grinned like he knew exactly what Sam was doing. Later that day, he googled Gabriel during one of his classes, when no one was looking – and found out that Gabriel was telling at least half of the truth. Maybe. At least 35 per cent. A certain thing was that he was nicknamed as “the trickster” in his high school yearbook (which was surprisingly available online), and Sam found a few YouTube videos of young Gabriel doing pranks that Sam never would’ve had enough courage to pull off: putting aluminum foil over every single thing in someone’s bedroom, including the person still sleeping in the bed; moving everything in a person’s apartment by five inches and watching how they stumbled on everything; placing a cat into someone’s home and then releasing five more, similar cats into the apartment once the owner was busy chasing down the first.

It was weird as hell to walk into _Heavenly Beans_ the next morning and order a coffee to go from Gabriel, the trickster-turned-into-a-respectable-business-owner, because Sam could still recall the video where Gabriel had served to some Michael (presumably his older brother) coffee made out of burnt flour and salt.

“Can I be sure that this is actually coffee, or should I expect something worse?” Sam commented when he got his cup.

Gabriel flashed him a grin. “Will you blame me if it’s made entirely out of chocolate?”

Sam snorted. “I’m not sure. Maybe I should thank you, in that case.”

“Only the best for you, kiddo.”

Gabriel was an odd one, that was for sure.

Once Sam realized that Gabriel owned _Heavenly Beans_ , things started to make a little more sense. Gabriel usually did the “boring stuff”, as he called accounting and orders, sitting in the corner booth. When Sam started dropping by noon or evening, he saw that Gabriel also did a lot more: he served patrons, and was incredibly good at talking them into buying more pieces of cake or pie or candy than what they’d planned on. If Gabriel wasn’t behind the counter, he was usually seen talking to the man that sometimes sat in the same corner booth that Gabriel frequented. They were a curious pair, with Gabriel prattling on and on, and with the stranger absorbed into his newspaper like he didn’t want to listen to Gabriel. Because Gabriel, with his golden hair and brown-gold eyes, looked nothing like the dark-haired, grumpy man, it had taken Sam another week to realize that the stranger was Castiel, Gabriel’s younger brother.

It all came to a head very abruptly and unsubtly. One afternoon, as Sam was stopping by after his classes for some coffee (and a piece of cake that Gabriel usually packed to go despite Sam’s protests), the dark-haired stranger in the corner booth looked up from his newspaper. Sam, who was waiting for his coffee, absently glanced at the stranger, and froze when he saw the stranger looking back.

“You must be Sam Winchester,” the stranger commented.

Sam looked around, as if to search for someone else the stranger could be addressing, even though mentioning his name was a pretty clear indication who the stranger was talking to. “Do I know you?”

The stranger gave a tiny smile – just the corner of his mouth twitching, really, and kept on looking at Sam. There was something about his bright eyes that seemed familiar to Sam, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen them.

“Gabriel is my brother,” the stranger said, and that’s when it clicked – this must’ve been Castiel, the only brother with whom Gabriel was on (civil) speaking terms.

Gabriel was snickering behind the counter, and annoyed, Sam turned to him.

“You really should just tell me these things,” Sam muttered.

“Nope,” Gabriel said with a grin. He handed Sam his coffee, and before Sam could refuse, offered a piece of mint chocolate cake. “It’s funnier to let you figure out things on your own. Makes me look mysterious and alluring.”

“Two adjectives that definitely do not describe you,” Sam quipped. He took the coffee and cake and after a slight hesitation, placed them on the table opposite of Castiel. “Well, in any case, it’s nice to meet you.”

“And you,” Castiel said. He offered his hand to Sam, and Sam shook it; the grip was firm but very warm. Castiel was apparently one of those people who seemed have a higher body temperature than the rest. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Nothing bad, I hope,” Sam said, sitting down.

“I’m experienced enough with Gabriel’s prattle. I can separate fiction from facts.”

“You really can’t, bro,” Gabriel called.

“Usually,” Castiel amended, and Sam chuckled at that.

Despite Gabriel’s weird and increasingly unbelievable tales about Castiel, Sam quickly noticed that Castiel was just a normal, albeit a little awkward man. Gabriel had described that the smell of paint clung to Castiel, but Sam didn’t notice anything like it, and during their few minutes of small talk, it would’ve been impossible to guess what Castiel did for a living. He seemed more like an accountant or perhaps a college professor, but Sam figured that telling that would’ve been an insult, so he didn’t. Instead, he asked about Castiel’s art, and a bit shyly, Castiel told what kind of art he did and where his paintings were sold.

“He still refuses to paint me in the nude,” Gabriel interrupted their talk after a few minutes. He plopped right next to Castiel and threw a hand over Castiel’s shoulder, without bothering to take off his green apron that was covered in dark spots (hopefully chocolate and nothing worse).

“There’s not much to paint,” Castiel said, deadpan, and Sam very nearly snorted his coffee into his nose.

“You wound me, brother.” Gabriel held a hand to his chest, pretending to be in immense pain. “Always stabbing me where it hurts the most. Isn’t family supposed to support you in everything?”

“I’m fairly certain being your brother _doesn’t_ mean I’m obligated to paint you in the nude,” Castiel said, glancing at Sam, as if to ask for help.

“Please! It would be a magnificent painting. Sammy here could hang it in his bedroom,” Gabriel snickered.

“To be honest, Gabe, that sounds more like something _Dean_ would hang up in my bedroom.”

“True,” Gabriel mused.

“Dean? Is that your brother?” Castiel quirked an eyebrow. “He pranks people too?”

“Just wait until you meet him,” Sam muttered.

“Now there’s an idea,” Gabriel said. “Put Ken Doll and Negative Nancy here in the same room, and they can play house together.”

Sam smiled apologetically at Castiel, deciding to stay out of this particular snark match, and Castiel replied by rolling his eyes.

“Don’t you have customers to serve?” Castiel asked Gabriel.

“Messing with you is much more fun.”

“I thought you grew out of being ‘the trickster’,” Sam said to Gabriel.

“Ah, memories. I haven’t heard that name in ages. And, old habits, yada yada.” He shrugged. “What can I say? It’s fun. And besides, I only prank people who really deserve it.”

“And everyone who pisses you off,” Castiel said.

“Very true,” Gabriel agreed with a grin, not one ounce of shame on him. Castiel simply sighed.

It seemed that Gabriel took Sam’s half-heartedly thrown comment to heart, though, because exactly three days later, on Monday morning, when Sam stopped by his usual morning coffee, he ran into Dean in the counter. Dean had absorbed himself in looking at his phone, and jumped when Sam called his name. Castiel, who was sitting in his usual booth, gave Sam a quick look, but halted his greeting when he noticed that Sam was talking to Dean. Sam absently noted that Castiel didn’t seem tired – this must’ve been one of those days when he lived like a normal citizen and hadn’t painted through the night to wake up at noon.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Sam asked. He’d thought Dean would still be sleeping off his evening shift, and hadn’t even noticed Dean was missing when he’d left their apartment.

“What?” Dean asked, just as confused. “Gabriel told me you couldn’t pick up your usual order and asked me to—oh goddamnit,” Dean huffed, when he saw Sam’s falling face.

“Gabriel asked you to,” Sam repeated, resigned. He didn’t even need the rest of the sentence.

“In my defense, he called me just when I’d woken up,” Dean said. “Can’t expect me to use all my brain power before breakfast.”

Sam shook his head. He didn’t even have energy to glare at Gabriel when the man finally showed up, already with Sam’s usual order in hand.

“You really, really should just tell me these things,” Sam sighed.

“Again, where’d the fun be in that?” Gabriel asked. Before Sam could protest, Gabriel was already handing Dean a cup of coffee – black, with two sugars, and where on earth had Gabriel even learned how Dean liked his coffee – and leaned over the counter to shout at Castiel, “Bro, meet the less awesome Winchester. Dean, Castiel. Play nice, kids.”

Dean glared at Gabriel, but his eyes turned softer the second he looked at Castiel. Castiel didn’t seem to know whether he should hide behind the newspaper or attempt to fix Gabriel’s rudeness. Finally, he chose the latter, placing his newspaper on the table and giving Dean a polite smile.

“So, you’re Gabriel’s famous artistic brother,” Dean said, stepping closer to the booth.

“I assure you, everything that he’s been telling about me, is a complete and utter lie,” Castiel said. He offered his hand, and Dean shook it, still looking into Castiel’s eyes.

“Well, are you a painter?” Dean asked as he sat down.

“Yes.”

“And do you paint at night?”

“Sometimes, yes.” The corner of Castiel’s mouth twitched, and Dean smiled at that. They stared at each other, a bit awkwardly.

“Well, no lies told, then.”

“I very much doubt that,” Castiel said, glancing at Gabriel, who could hardly keep the grin off of his face. “His specialty is lying about my trips to Nepal. I most certainly didn’t flash the _dalai-lama_.”

Dean laughed, and Castiel added, with a pleased rumble, “Though I did meet him.”

Dean grinned. “I’d love to hear about that.”

Gabriel looked at them, eyes glinting. Whenever he got that look in his eye, Sam was mesmerized for a moment and attempted to name the color Gabriel’s eyes were. So far, he hadn’t figured out the correct answer.

“Well, great, now you two know each other,” Gabriel said. “Kiddo, don’t you have a class to attend?”

“What?” Sam asked. “Oh! Shit, I’m about to be late.”

“Good thing one of us remembers,” Gabriel teased.

“See you later,” Sam said to Dean and Castiel, and they both gave him a half-hearted wave before Sam rushed off.

So, three weeks into their acquaintance, and Sam still wasn’t sure was he really Gabriel’s friend or just a neighbor who happened to crash Gabriel’s life from time to time, or vice versa. Sam saw Gabriel everywhere, and sometimes the man visited, but with Gabriel, it was hard to understand his intentions. Even harder was trying to figure out just who Gabriel even was; it seemed like Sam could’ve spent the rest of his days trying to decode that, and it wouldn’t be enough. And yet, he couldn’t exactly say no to the challenge. Nor did he want to.

Which had led them to this: going out on a Friday night, to a brand new nightclub of Gabriel’s choice. Gabriel had simply walked into the Winchesters’ apartment, like he nowadays did, with Castiel in tow. Castiel had at least had the decency to look embarrassed, but Gabriel was having none of that: he proceeded to talk Sam’s ear off and annoy Dean (who was trying to have a civil conversation with Castiel on the couch), until Sam caved in and agreed to go out. Dean had agreed more easily, and Castiel had simply rolled his eyes and grabbed his coat, not even bothering with an answer. He was used to Gabriel’s antics and had realized a lifetime ago that resistance was futile.

And that essentially ended the fun portion of the evening, for Sam. He wasn’t really in the mood for this. The wait into the club had been long, and the autumn air wasn’t that warm. Inside the club, the music was blaring, making conversation incredibly hard, and it wasn’t even good music. (Really, what was the charm to all those uhn-tiss-uhn-tiss beats?) The drinks were good at least – Gabriel had bought them all something no one else could pronounce – but Sam had finished his in a minute, and getting up and ordering something else would have been too much of a hassle, because the club was packed.

Conversation really was impossible. Sam had given up after he’d had a yelling conversation with Gabriel about the place, because it didn’t seem worth the effort, and now they were just sitting side by side. Dean and Castiel, who sat on the other side of the table on smaller stools, were more resilient: Dean was talking into Castiel’s ear, and Castiel laughed at whatever Dean said. He leant in turn to talk into Dean’s ear, and it was Dean’s turn to laugh at whatever Castiel had said.

Sam rolled his eyes. It was nearly impossible to hear anything the other said, and so it was obvious that they were just _pretending_ what the other said was funny. And if that failed, they simply stared at each other, confused. At least he and Gabriel weren’t even trying to keep up the pretense of having a conversation.

When a bartender came to pick up their used glasses and accidentally spilled a dozen drops on Sam’s face, Sam decided that he’d had enough. Dean and Castiel were still pretending to understand what the other was saying and talking into each others’ ears, and Gariel was just dancing on his seat. Not wanting to be rude, though, Sam turned to Gabriel and yelled into his ear:

“I think I’m going home.”

“You’re going?” Gabriel yelled back. “No, you’re not!”

“Yes!” Sam argued back.

Gabriel took a hold of his wrist and led him away from the table to the corridor that led to the toilets. Inside the restroom, the music was still loud, but tolerably so, and they could have a conversation without having to shout.

“Where’s the rush, big guy?” Gabriel asked.

“I’ve been here for two hours,” Sam pointed out. Now that he was standing, he noticed that he was swaying a bit and was slightly buzzed – apparently whatever Gabriel had ordered him had been pretty strong, besides tasty.

“The night is still young!” Gabriel argued.

“It’s nearing midnight.”

“What I just said.”

Sam sighed. Sometimes Gabriel was being obtuse on purpose, but sometimes he was just that obtuse, and sometimes, like now, Sam didn’t know where they were standing.

“I’m tired. Sorry, Gabe, but clubs just aren’t my thing.”

“Well, they’re not my favorite scene either, but you’re just going to have to suck it up.”

“Why?”

“You can’t leave, just when we’re getting somewhere.”

“We’re… getting where?” Sam asked, confused.

“With Dean and Cas, of course.”

Sam couldn’t even articulate his confusion this time; he simply stared at Gabriel, wide-eyed. Gabriel huffed and impatiently said:

“They’re finally getting their heads out of their asses and putting them into each others’ asses.”

“Gabe, what the hell.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t notice? If you’re supposed to be the genius of the Winchester family, I worry about your brother.”

“Gabe, what are you on about?”

“Your brother has the hots for my brother, genius.”

Sam burst out laughing. “Right. You’ve obviously drunk way too much. We’re going home, little buddy.”

“Who’re you calling ‘little’, you… moose?”

“Moose?” Sam repeated, smiling broadly. “If that’s all you can come up with, I hate to tell you, but you might be too inebriated for rational thought.”

“Bah,” Gabriel waved his hand. “Inebriated just enough for this. And don’t try to distract me. You never noticed how those two have been making doe-eyes at each other ever since they met?”

Sam laughed again. The idea was preposterous; Dean and Castiel had met thrice, at most, and were on small-talk level of potential friendship. Besides, even if their sexualities were compatible – Sam knew nothing of Castiel’s, but Dean had come out as bi to him a few years ago – throwing two people into a room and hoping for the best was rarely a working strategy. Dean and Castiel spent so much time awkwardly staring at each other that it was laughable to think _that_ as a success story.

“Why is that funny?” Gabriel asked, annoyed.

“Because… because it is!” Sam giggled. “I’m sorry, that’s just… Gabriel, no. That’s just _stupid_.”

Gabriel looked affronted. “Why on earth would that be ‘stupid’?”

“They’ve met three times! At most!”

“Oh, so brother dearest hasn’t told you how he’s become a regular at _Heavenly Beans?”_ Gabriel asked, a grin returning to his face. “About his lunch dates with our favorite painter? Of their endless philosophical discussions about the value of art and music? They are so cute that they make me retch, and I have a strong stomach.”

“That’s…” Sam couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t have the energy to think. “Whatever. I’m going home, in any case.”

“Wait!”

Gabriel followed Sam out of the restroom and as Sam made his way back to the table. He only planned on saying a quick ‘bye’ at Dean and Castiel, maybe snicker a little more at Gabriel’s odd match-making attempts, but every thought he’d had disappeared when he saw their table through the crowd.

Dean and Castiel were still talking to each others’ ears, but they were so close that it looked like Cas was practically sitting in Dean’s lap, and Dean’s hands were placed very near Castiel’s hips. Castiel’s right hand was thrown over Dean’s shoulder, and on his left, he was drawing patterns on Dean’s arm. Just like that, Sam felt like a filter was switched, and what had looked like awkward staring and pretend conversation shifted into very clear flirting and lust so palpable that they were seconds away from kissing.

“Huh,” Sam said. “Well, that’s something I never thought I’d see.”

Gabriel was apparently very good at reading from lips, because he leaned towards Sam (and, hilariously, had to stand on his toes to be able to talk into Sam’s ear) and said, “What did I tell you, moose.”

Flustered for a number of reasons, Sam shook Gabriel off and started to walk towards the exit. The club was in two stories, and in the first story, the music wasn’t as loud as upstairs. Sam attempted to walk to the door, but Gabriel still hung after him.

“Don’t you want to see my brilliant plan come into fruition?” Gabriel asked.

“I think I’ve seen enough,” Sam said. “Congrats, you were right.”

“So, all the more reason to celebrate!”

“Not tonight,” Sam said. He was so close to the exit, he could taste freedom. “And I think you’d better leave them alone, too.”

“Put the antlers away, moose,” Gabriel said. “This was a brilliant plan, and you know it. Just hold on for a few more minutes, and you’ll get to see the magic happen. Maybe even watch, if you’re into that.”

“All right, that’s enough. We’re _so_ not going to watch that.” In one elegant move, Sam scooped up Gabriel, and with the strength of alcohol, threw him over his shoulder. This wasn’t something Sam would’ve tried if he were entirely sober, but in his defense, he was a little buzzed, Gabriel was starting to piss him off, and third, it seemed like a great way to shut Gabriel up. In a word, in a slightly-buzzed-Sam’s mind, it was the greatest idea to ever grace his mind.

Gabriel shrieked, but it was hard to tell was it delighted or furious, or both. Ignoring that, Sam calmly walked out of the club. The bouncer looked slightly confused, but didn’t try to stop them, especially when he heard Gabriel’s shrieks turn into laughter.

Sam shook his head. Gabriel was still chuckling, which meant that at least he wasn’t angry. “You’re being too loud, little guy.”

“Height jokes, very original. Now take me home.”

“What am I, a taxi?”

“Ever since you picked me up… yes.”

Sam shook Gabriel a little, making him laugh again. “I’ll walk you to your car, but that’s it,” Sam said, though he thought that he didn’t exactly want to put Gabriel down.

“Hey, genius, we’re neighbors. As in, live in the same building. As in, live right next to each other. Remind me again how you got here?”

Sam felt his face burn a little. Damn, he was never drinking again, if being a little buzzed made him do embarrassing mistakes as this.

“I’ll walk you home,” Sam corrected with a cough, because as Gabriel had reminded him, they lived not four blocks away from the nightclub. Taking a cab, even at this time of night, would be a waste of money.

To his embarrassment, Sam kind of liked having Gabriel over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to put Gabe down until he had to. Besides, it was aggravating Gabriel, making it twice the fun. So, Sam decided to walk.

After the packed heat of the club, the nighttime chill felt pleasant again his skin. Sam walked slowly, both not to jostle Gabriel too much, and because he wasn’t in a hurry anymore. He wasn’t really tired; he just hadn’t wanted to stay in the club.

Gabriel didn’t say anything for a while, but two minutes of silence felt too much for him, and so he asked:

“So, are you going to put me down any time soon?”

“No. Are you complaining?” Sam patted Gabriel on the back, grinning.

“Not at all. It’s pretty comfortable here.”

Then suddenly, a hand landed on Sam’s butt and squeezed. Sam yelped, almost stumbling in his steps, and laughed out of confusion.

Gabriel had just grabbed his ass. Gabriel had just _grabbed_ his ass.

“Gabe, what the hell!”

“I’m just inspecting the goods.”

“Now that’s a term for sexual harassment I haven’t heard before.”

“It’s not harassment if you like it.”

Sam willed himself not to blush. Or even crack a smile.

“Still didn’t ask for it,” Sam said.

“What do you expect me to do, pick cherries while I’m hanging upside down, here?” Gabriel was silent for a second, and then added, “Well, there’s one cherry I’d like to pick.”

Sam couldn’t stop his laughter. “It’s… Gabe, I think you’re mixing up your idioms.”

“Just improving them.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re the one who picked me up. Now live with it.”

“‘Picking you up’ sound vaguely… dirty,” Sam snickered. Gabriel snickered as well, delighted about Sam’s joke.

“Well, what would you call this, then?” As if to convince Sam, Gabriel slapped him on the butt, again. This time, Gabriel let his hand linger, and to his embarrassment, Sam leaned into the touch.

“Intervention?” Sam tried. “Picking up the trash?”

“Ah, but then, you pick it, you buy it?” Gabriel offered.

“Gabriel, you’re making absolutely no sense.”

“You mean we’re not making any sense.”

“…yes?”

“Oh, good, I was afraid I was the only one confused by this conversation.”

Sam chuckled. “Was there a point to this?”

“There’s always a point. A very sharp one, in fact.”

“Gabriel,” Sam breathed.

“Go out with me?”

Sam had had a feeling that the question was coming, but when he heard it, it still felt like a surprise.

“Wow,” Sam said.

“Is that a good reaction or a bad reaction?” Gabriel asked. There was a hint of insecurity in his voice, although he masked it well.

Sam didn’t answer at first. Instead, he chuckled, and said, “You do realize that if, and that’s a big if, we end up together—”

“I dislike the ‘if’ there, Winchester, but go on.”

“If we end up together, we’re going to have to tell the others the story of how you asked me out… by talking at my butt.”

Gabriel sniggered. “Are you kidding me? Our best man will thank us in tears for giving him the best idea for a speech, ever. Imagine my mother’s face when she hears that toast.”

“Slow down,” Sam laughed. “I haven’t even said yes, nor met your mother, and you’re planning our wedding toasts?”

“So, is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no,” Sam said, smiling.

“You’re killing me here, Winchester,” Gabriel groaned. To punctuate his words, he slapped Sam’s butt again. This time, Sam didn’t even feel embarrassed by it.

“To be fair, you kind of caught me by surprise,” Sam said, though it wasn’t strictly true.

“You mean to tell me, that after all this, you didn’t see this coming?” Gabriel asked. “That this whole story hasn’t been building up to this pivotal moment?”

“I…” Sam didn’t know what to say. He’d obviously noticed Gabriel’s interest, but hadn’t been able to determine with certainty was it just all talk and no intentions behind it. And, of course, there was the question of Sam’s _own_ interest. Sam had had a few crushes on men, but nothing had ever come out of them; the closest he’d gotten had been a drunken groping with his college friend Brady, but that had led to nowhere. Sam could confess that he was definitely attracted to Gabriel, but Gabriel was… a completely different category. Gabriel, as interesting as he was, was a completely uncharted territory, and Sam felt as if he was stumbling on every step on the way to the unknown.

“Well, that’s it, kiddo, your reputation as a genius is gone. A horny monkey is more subtle than me trying to flirt.”

Despite himself, Sam laughed. “Gabriel, what the hell.”

“True, isn’t it?” Gabriel mused. “You really didn’t notice?”

“I might have,” Sam softly said.

“I’m taking that as a… maybe?”

“Stop that. I still haven’t given my answer,” Sam reminded him.

“Which is?”

Sam smiled. Warmth spread to his cheeks and stomach, but it was the good kind of warmth. “Pick me up at seven.”

“Whoop!” Gabriel yelled. “Is that tomorrow a.m. or p.m.? Because I can do both. Let’s do both.”

“You’re impossible,” Sam said, but he smiled.

“Eh, you worry too much, Samsquatch. This is the beginning of a beautiful marriage, I can feel that.”

“Um.”

“Too soon?”

“Maybe.”

“I just like to make my intentions clear. Or should I offer your brother sheep in exchange?”

“I’m pretty sure he’d sell me for a single pie,” Sam said. “Provided it’s fresh out of the oven.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gabriel grinned. There was a short silence, as Sam walked on, and Gabriel relaxed against his shoulder, absently drawing figures on Sam’s back. It dawned to Sam that despite knowing each other for barely three weeks, it all felt oddly natural.

“If, and that’s a big if, we end up married,” Sam then said, and once again, Gabriel interrupted:

“I really dislike the ‘if’ there, but go on.”

“If we get married, I’m absolutely going to carry you away from the altar like this.”

Gabriel laughed. “Proposal accepted.”

“Slow down. We haven’t even moved in together.”

“Pfft, there’s one wall between us. Just bring your toothbrush to my bathroom and you’re all set.”

“Maybe next weekend,” Sam said.

“Fine. Meet me at the city hall two weeks from now, I know you have a shorter day on Fridays, and then we’ll talk about wedding vows and toasts.”

Sam just jostled Gabriel, smiling to himself, and contently listened to Gabriel’s babble about wedding vows.

(As it proved a few years down the line, Gabriel was right about one thing. Dean couldn’t resist making _three_ “asking a butt out” jokes in his best man speech, even if his boyfriend Castiel desperately tried to make Dean cut out two of them.)


End file.
